


Curiosity Killed the Cat

by CaptainBoneyAss



Series: Common Sense and Nonsense [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Addams Family References, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alice in Wonderland References, BAMF Hermione Granger, BAMF Minerva McGonagall, Bisexual Remus Lupin, Blaise Zabini is a Good Friend, Book 3: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, Brotherly Bonding, Draco Malfoy is a Good Friend, Everyone Is Gay, F/F, F/M, Falling In Love, Families of Choice, Fluff and Angst, Foster Care, Gay Draco Malfoy, Gay Sirius Black, Good Albus Dumbledore, Good Slytherins, Harry Potter Needs a Hug, Harry Potter is a Little Shit, Love/Hate, Lucius Malfoy & Severus Snape Friendship, Lucius Malfoy Being an Asshole, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Miscarriage, Murder Mystery, Narcissa Black Malfoy is a Good Parent, Oblivious Draco Malfoy, Oblivious Harry Potter, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, POV Draco Malfoy, POV Lucius Malfoy, POV Remus Lupin, Past Character Death, Past Child Abuse, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Female/Female Relationships, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Platonic Male/Male Relationships, Protective Remus Lupin, Regulus Black Deserves Better, Remus Lupin is So Done, Severus Snape Has a Heart, Sirius Black as Padfoot, Sleepy Cuddles, Trans Character, Werewolf Culture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:20:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25239112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainBoneyAss/pseuds/CaptainBoneyAss
Summary: What if things had been a little different? What if Draco had learned to share earlier on? What if two seemingly unlovable people had loved each other and hoped to survive the first war. What if Remus found someone just as broken as him?Severus Snape is haunted by her green eyes and his startling grey.Draco can't stop being a prat around stupid Potter and his stupid perfect bird's nest of a hairstyle. And his best friend has lost his mind.Remus wonders why his life is like this and undertakes the impossible. He receives more problems than solutions. At least he can afford Honeydukes?All the while there's a murderer on the loose and Dementors hungry for souls and Ginny can't  for the life of him figure out why Percy wants to murder a surprisingly innocent Slytherin.Harry is not obviously a largely oblivious ball of sass and rage.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Series: Common Sense and Nonsense [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1828402
Kudos: 8





	Curiosity Killed the Cat

**Author's Note:**

> So. Welcome to my monstrous fic. This is my July camp Nano project, hence the limited editing and complete nonsense plot. Which I've decided to make a series. Insert strained smile here.  
> Feel free to point out typos. I'm dyslexic.
> 
> Warnings: anaphylaxis mentioned in this chapter. No graphic detail. Harry disassociates a little too.

Draco didn't know what it was about the boy that had him on edge. Well not on edge per se but something about him felt wrong. He'd never felt unsafe in the common room or dormitory. The other boy had never done anything threatening or even antagonistic in regards to him. He'd done the exact opposite. Well, then he'd gotten ticked off when he told him that he'd called Granger a- a slur. Hells, Draco had even taken to studying with him since before Yule in second year. That is, once he'd licked his wounds from that particularly thorough tongue lashing from the slightly smaller Slytherin. One study session became two. Then three. Before he knew it he had a best friend and nothing was secret or sacred. Not unless he wanted it to be. The other boy was always willing to listen and offer advice. Or just comfort if that's what Draco needed, even when he wasn't aware of it.

And Draco had begun doing the exact same thing.

When he stuck his foot in it sometimes -played his role too well when it came to Potter, Weasel, and Granger- well, Ian would have words. Every syllable was carefully picked and arranged to show him how he'd fucked up but never in a way that made Draco feel patronised or chastised. Ian would hear both sides. The other side usually came from the twins or Weaselette when she started school. 

Draco couldn’t stop remembering how he had avoided Ian for an entire day when he'd seen him talking quietly with a puffy eyed Granger in the library. Weasel had been vomiting slugs since Quidditch practice and Potter had just become a pariah who didn't really leave his common room. So, naturally, his best friend had cornered the muggleborn among the shelves. Three hours. Ian had spent three hours with Granger. His friend had gotten hell for it. The seven year prefect had been livid and would have cursed him had Draco not acted quickly. Honestly, the menace he'd taken as a friend should have been a Hufflepuff.

Draco still winced in shame at some of the things he'd said. And while he didn't like the Weaselette or Looney, he understood why the current subject of his puzzlement cared for them. Birds of a feather and all. Still, Draco worried for that inevitable moment when the cat would come. He was just so… nice. Sure, he could rip into someone in about a sentence but that didn't explain how the honey blond sitting across the Slytherin table wasn't even batting an eye at the nonsense Seamus Finnegan was spouting from the Gryffindor table.

Maybe he could ask? Potter was being particularly vexing and it was only the first day. Draco would really like to know how to not give a shrivel fig if it got him closer to finishing his godfather's ridiculous summer essay. Fortunately it was due for the second week of term. There was hope for him yet.

He sipped his tea, still hot and just sweet enough to spare his tongue the bitterness and contemplated interrupting his housemate’s morning reading. He looked tired and even paler than usual. The bags under his eyes made him look sick. Draco wasn't sure if he should interrupt the meager breakfast his friend was working on. On one hand, he knew that wasn't an actual charms text but rather one of the many muggle novels his roommate owned wearing another book’s dust jacket. Flint had sneered when he'd seen his friend reading Edga Allan Poe so now he had to disguise his Muggle stories. While Draco would never be caught reading a muggle novel in public, his housemate preferred to risk it. The blond could grudgingly admit that the printing press was a genius invention. He would have never gotten through the few novels he had borrowed from said dormmate if the muggle authors hadn't decided to forgo copying hand written books and just print everything. It was actually quite dumb that only their newer textbooks where printed rather than transcribed. 

Then again, it could wait until it wasn't important. Scarhead wouldn't stop being an idiot anytime soon. His dorm mate needed to eat.

A blur of movement caught his eye. Something small and round flew across the hall from the Gryffindor table and straight for the head of one Ian McKie.

“Ian!” Draco hissed and motioned for him to get out of the way. 

His stupid housemate merely turned and raised his book at the projectile. He swung his book and whatever it had been hit the floor with a wet splat.

“Finnegan, the elves did not spend hours on breakfast for you to weaponize it. Don't be wasteful.” McKie called out and turned around like nothing happened. 

He merely cast a light scourgify at his book and picked up his cup for a drink. In seconds he was back to his book and ripping bits of brioche to eat, comfortably sandwiched between Astoria and Blaise. 

Was that it?

“The fuck is wrong with him?” Draco hissed, unsure if he meant his friend or the loon sitting across the hall.

His hand clenched as he watched a very pissed off Weaselette storm out of the Great Hall. He fixed his eyes on the head table, hoping his godfather saw what had just happened and did something about it. Instead he was met with the delightful sight of McGonagall and Snape zeroing in on Finnegan. Draco watched the silent conversion unfold before Snape nodded minutely and McGonagall rose to deal with her idiot. 

“Finnegan is insecure because, somehow, Ian and Weasley are still friends.” Pansy offered and promptly stole a strawberry from Draco's plate. “And now she's mad at Finnegan.”

Draco turned to his housemate and leaned in, making sure no one heard him beside Pansy, Astoria, Blaise, and Ian himself. “Why are you still friends with her?”

“Why do you still talk to me, despite all our arguments?” Ian asked in response. His tone flat and face blank. He was still focused on that damn book. 

“Both Finnegan and Brown think you fancy her.” Pansy said unhelpfully.

Now that got a reaction. Ian choked on his tea but quickly recovered. "She's twelve!"

“Pansy, she also thinks you hate me because you're jealous of mine and Draco's passionate affair.” Astoria piped up from beside her sister.

Daphne gave a snort. “Which is ridiculous because at the feast she agreed when Patil proclaimed that you were having Ian's love child.”

The look of sheer disgust on Ian and Astoria's faces was priceless. 

"Their divinations are becoming more and more ridiculous as the years progress." Draco frowned.

“You mean their unfounded gossip has become more ridiculous.” Pansy said with a punched look on her face. Right, Drco had forgotten that she'd be taking that con woman's class.

"They will be unbearable this year" Blaise scoffed. He glanced at Draco, seemingly conveying that Pansy would be part of that nebulous they.

“Your father will be most displeased,” Ian said. “All summer he'd been wishing for a surrogate son and all he gets is an illegitimate grandchild. Through owl post no less.”

The smirk on his face was sharp enough to cut glass and Draco couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up from his belly. He'd seen his mother smirk the same way with Mrs. Greengrass when Mrs. Nott said something unbelievably stupid. It did nothing to convince Draco that his friend was alright.

Astoria placed a delicate hand on her tie, she clutched the knot as if it were a strand of pearls. 

“Oh dear, what shall we do?” She said airly. She rested her head on Ian's shoulder, her large jewel like eyes peering at him with a lovesick type of worry. 

“Assign a godfather of course. I'm not long for this world once your father finds out.” Ian followed along, tenderly holding Astoria's free hand.

For a moment Draco wondered how far they would take this and then both of them turned to him with a look he did not like one bit.

“Draco, my dearest friend.” Astoria began. “Would you do us the honour of being our child's godfather?”

“No.” Draco said. Turning back to his breakfast.

“Please, Draco. With me gone, who's going to teach them not to be a colossal- no, never mind. Astoria, light of my life, we need a Hufflepuff for this.”Ian said as he pulled away slightly from their friend. “Diggory seems to be the level headed sort.”

“Oh come on!” Draco said and tossed his half eaten scone at Ian.

Ian decided to just open his mouth and catch it. Draco heard at least three different joints pop and creak. He had to rise out of his seat a little so it didn't sail over his head but he chewed with a spark of triumph in his hazel-grey eyes.

“You're disgusting.” Draco said, wrinkling his nose at Ian's satisfied grin. It looked absolutely ridiculous with his stuffed cheeks.

His friend took a drink from Draco's own goblet of pumpkin juice and said. “You're the one throwing food at people’s faces.”

It took Draco's second to pick up on the change in demeanour but now that he saw it he wondered if it was an act. One moment he was in his book and rightfully upset, the next he was joking and catching food in his mouth like some dog doing a trick.

“You're the one snatching up like a stray.” Blaise said, peering at Ian from under his thick eyelashes.

“Also you just have that je ne sais quoi that makes people want to stone you with baked goods.” Draco said and checked the time. “Come on, we have potions in fifteen.”

“Joy.” Pansy huffed. "First class of the year. Let's hope Snape had a good summer."

“Gods protect us. I sit right next to Finnegan.” Ian groaned but shouldered his bag none the less.

Draco couldn't help the cackle that escaped his mouth. This was bound to be interesting.

\--

It was not interesting. It was a disaster.

Snape had switched the seats because of what everyone was calling The Breakfast Incident. Which, no. It wasn't an incident. Something so minor could never be an incident. Hufflepuff turning on Potter last year could be called an incident but not Seamus Finnegan launching a slice of bread pudding at someone. 

Incident or not, the seating plan had been altered. Gryffindor was on thin ice. Nott had knocked into Ian, on purpose, and in an effort to regain his balance Ian had bumped Longbottom's shoulder. Now Potter was walking Longbottom and Ian to the infirmary and class was dismissed early. 

Draco didn't know how many rowan berries made it into the potion but it had exploded and both Ian and Longbottom had a terrible reaction. Both had several deep red splotches all over their skin.

Obviously, Draco raced after them. He couldn't trust Potter and Longbottom with Ian.

He found them just a few meters from the Hospital Wing. Longbottom was half limping, half running ahead of Potter who was all but carrying a semiconscious Ian.

His heart stuttered and went cold. He was rooted to the spot as Potter dragged the honey blond down the corridor. Something was terribly wrong.

Small little choked gasps came from Ian's barely conscious body. It was a horrible rattling hoarse sound that chilled Draco's blood.

Potter had his wand pointed at Ian's neck. In the empty corridor, Draco could hear him frantically muttering Anapneo. Each time the spell was cast his friend would inhale and exhale only to have his airways blocked again and again. He'd choke and sputter and gag, shoes scraping against the flagstones like claws dragging and clicking toward him. The smell of wild animals, blood, and damask roses clogged his nostrils. He choked and gagged on the scent, hands clamy with cold sweat or slick with another's warm life blood.

The quick clicking of heels or razor sharp life rending claws was followed by a boy's frantic voice. He saw Longbottom limped out of the infirmary, distracting him. It was Longbottom. Not- not that. 

There were no snarls and howls. No warm rich blood seeping into his knees and oozing between his tightly clamped hands. The damask roses were in the villa in France, not Hogwarts. The clicking steps belonged to Madam Pomfrey who ran to where Potter was struggling to keep Ian both vertical and breathing, not that. 

Suddenly the corridor came into focus as he hadn’t noticed it slipping away. The early autumn chill entered his lungs and helped to ground him. Ian was in trouble. Draco knew the Anapneo spell. Mind made up, he ran towards the small group as Pomfrey hurried them in the direction of the hospital wing. Draco saw her casting diagnostic spells and instructing Potter when to cast.

"I know Anapneo!" He said as he caught up to mediwitch. "You taught me how."

Madam Pomfrey looked at him and nodded. "Stand beside Potter and keep pace. Cast it at regular intervals like I showed you. Mr. McKie has a severe allergic reaction."

Draco nodded in return and took position beside Potter. He didn't like it but Ian was more important. The seven meters to the entrance of the infirmary seemed to stretch on for miles. He could see Ian's face puffy and turning red as he struggled to breathe. His friend's chest heaved with each breath. One gold speckled eye peered at him from a mess on stray locks of honey blond that escaped Ian's disheveled braid.

"Longbottom, keep talking." Pomfrey ordered. "What happened after he collapsed on the first floor."

"We took the corridor by Professor Binns's classroom because it's closer. Ian started trying to breathe but he couldn't get any air." Neville said slowly and clearly despite his quick steps and wincing. "Harry figured out it was an allergic reaction and began casting. He told me to clear the way and run ahead to find you."

Madam Pomfrey waved a wand and two beds were turned down. "Thank you, Mr. Longbottom. You did very well, now lay down. I will be with you once I've dealt with Mr. McKie."

Draco followed Potter to the other available bed and kept casting as he laid Ian on the other one.  
"Thank you, boys I've got it from here. Return to your classes." Madam Pomfrey said and began casting. 

Potter took a few steps back and sat one bed away. Draco moved to join him one bed away but he stayed standing. He glanced at Potter out of the corner of his eye. The Gryffindor had spilt potion all over his robes and on his face from where it rubbed off from Ian's hair.

His cheek was pink.

"Potter-" Draco began but the opening of infirmary doors stopped him.

He watched his Godfather storm through to Ian's bed followed by a very dower looking Dumbledore. 

"Poppy what happened?" Dumbledore asked. As soon as he spoke, the privacy screen swung around the bed and blocked off any further sound.

Seconds ticked by and the pink splotch on Potter's cheek became red.

"Potter, you're covered in potion." Draco said. "It's on your face and it's getting irritated."

Potter blinked in response. It was a look Ian got from time to time. This was something Draco knew how to deal with. He could keep him present and talk him out of it. He'd seen what it did to Ian if he wasn't watched and gently spoken to until he could find his way back to his own body. If Potter had a meltdown then Ian wouldn't get the care he needed or Potter could get the potion in his eyes if he rubbed his face while crying. Potter had helped Ian. Draco could waste a few more minutes being civil. 

Longbottom had already grabbed a bowl of clean water and a pile of clean rags and had closed the curtains to change into clothes that weren't contaminated. If they heard a thump, they could easily rush over to check on him. He clearly had experience decontaminating himself.

"I'm fine. It's like a mosquito bite. Breathing normal and I'm not dizzy or lightheaded." Potter said after a moment.

Draco nodded but kept an eye on him anyways. Potter often lied about his injuries. Even he knew that. Steeling himself, Draco decided to ask another question.

"How did you know to use Anapneo?" He asked, quiet and almost ashamed. He should have insisted on going with Ian instead of railing on Nott. He should have insisted on being paired with Ian instead of sitting halfway across the classroom, appearances be damned. 

"There was a girl in my primary school. She was allergic to peanuts and one of my cousin's friends smeared a spoonful of peanut butter over her mouth." Potter said numbly. "She managed to clean it off with water but it had gotten into her mouth and she went into anaphylactic shock. I found the EpiPen, erh, a muggle potion thing, in her pocket and followed the instructions printed on it. I asked Madam Pince for a book on healing spells in case something like that happened here and asked Madam Pomfrey to teach me to do them correctly."

"I don't understand half of those Muggle words." Draco said, holding back a sneer. He managed, mostly.

"Which ones?" Potter said with a snort.

"Anaphylactic shock and EpiPen. What's a primary school?" Draco asked. Every time he tried to rouse up some modicum of his hatred for Potter he kept seeing Ian's bloodshot grey eyes and the bright gold flecks that burned with fear and desperation as he fought to breathe.

"Primary school is a school for muggle children from age 5 to 10. They learn to read, write, science, history, and maths. Five days a week. From 8 in the morning to 3 in the afternoon. They serve lunch and have breaks so you can play outside if it's not raining. No houses, just twenty odd kids per classroom and one teacher. Kids go home to their families every day. Staff is essentially the same but all human." Potter said. 

"And the other two?" Draco asked again. Potter's voice was incredibly flat and he wasn't even looking at him. The specky git couldn't take his eyes off the privacy curtain. Draco couldn't either but that was neither here nor there.

“Anaphylactic shock or Anaphylaxis is when you're allergic to something and your blood pressure drops and your airways close up. Your body tries to protect you against the thing you're allergic to by not breathing it in.” Potter said, flat and empty. He sounded more like some sleep deprived Granger rather than his usual idiot self.

“And you just suffocate instead.” Draco finished, not wanting to tempt Potter into staring listlessly at Ian's curtained off bed. 

“Anapneo is good for that. Opens the airways even if it's not the best one because your own body is what's choking you.” Potter said and turned to look at him for the first time in fifteen minutes. “Epipens deliver a medicine called epinephrine into the body and that helps open the lungs and throat.”

“How do muggles do that without magic?” Draco asked. “And I have no clue what epinephrine is.”

“Thin hollow needle. Like the syringes in Potions but much smaller. Vaccines- er, they’re like medicine for preventable diseases. So, they give you vaccines so it doesn't kill you on the odd chance you catch it. They're done like that. In a large muscle group or vien. It depends on what's wrong. Epipens have a needle attached to a spring. That end goes against the person's skin or clothes and you push a button on the other side. Needle goes in and the medicine gets into the body and starts working.” He said and almost scratched his face but stopped himself. “Epinephrine is another word for adrenaline. Muggles can make synthetic adrenaline in a lab. Their Potioneers are called chemists.”

“Needles sound horrible.” Draco did sneer. It was for the barbaric methods of muggle healers. Potter’s flat voice was actually bearable. Really. It wasn't concerning at all.

“Kinda scary but their healers know how to do it so vaccines don't hurt much. Kinda sore after. Sometimes you get a fever from it but it's better than dying.” Potter said. 

“I'd rather the needles, then.” Draco said, suppressing a shiver. “So vaccines would help with diseases like dragon pox. People are working on a potion so the body learns how to fight it.”

He found it surprising how well Potter managed to retain all this information after three or more years away from a muggle school.

“I didn’t know you could do that.” Potter blinked owlishly. 

Draco didn't even try holding back his snort, it was less diresive than he'd hoped but had gotten the same effect. Potter had narrowed his eyes. Ah, there was the usual idiot Potter.

“But yeah it's basically the same thing.” Potter said with a nod.

Draco was about to ask another question when the privacy screen pulled back to reveal the Headmaster.

“Messrs. Potter, Malfoy, and Longbottom.” The Headmaster greeted with an annoyingly joyful smile.

Wait. He was smiling. Ian was going to be okay.

“Mr. McKie is out of danger and he is resting while the potions do their work.” The Headmaster said. “Your quick thinking and combined efforts bought him the time he needed to survive this ordeal.”

“Is he going to be okay?” Longbottom asked, already in his pyjamas. The uniform lay discarded on the floor and his hands and face were meticulously clean. Well, at least Longbottom knew how to decontaminate himself.

“He will be. He is in excellent hands, Mr. Longbottom. “ The Headmaster said calmly as he approached Longbottom’s bed. “Are any of you sporting similar symptoms? Itchy or constricted airways, dizziness, swelling, or difficulty breathing?”

All three boys shook their heads and the Headmaster nodded.

“Now, by chance, did any of you boys see what substance Mr. McKie came into contact with that may have had this reaction? Or of any allergies he might have divulged?” The Headmaster asked, infuriatingly calm.

Potter blinked.

"He's friends with Ginny, we're not that close." Potter said. "Either Ginny or Malfoy might know. He coughed up a red berry by the Grand Staircase though."

"We were working on a healing potion for fatigue. It uses dried rowan berries. They're small and red." Draco said, turning to look at Potter.

There was a whimper and both Seekers turned to look at Longbottom.

"Nott bumped into us when I was adding the rowan berries. The whole jar fell in." Longbottom said as he buried his head in his hands. His shoulders started to shake.

Draco saw red. Nott had nearly killed Ian.

"Neville, my boy, how many berries were in the jar?" The Headmaster asked, calm as ever.

"Six." came Longbottom's snivelling reply. 

"We were only supposed to use one." Potter blanched.

Draco didn't stay to hear the rest of it. He had the first care of magical creatures class with Nott in an hour. He had an hour to strangle Nott and hide his body. 

He stormed out of the infirmary and headed straight for the common room. Nott was fucking dead.

An hour later the naked fury on his face had simmered down to a sneer as he headed to the edge of the Forbidden Forest for the Half Giant's class. The man could barely articulate and never finished his schooling and yet Dumbledore let him teach. The oaf didn't even have a bloody wand!

Nott had managed to keep himself hidden. Pansy had told him that the snivelling coward had booked when a house elf appeared to tell his godfather that Ian almost- that Ian was in a bad way. Draco didn't call to notice how Blaise was gazing at anyone who approached them with murder in his dark eyes. Granger and Weasley had spent lunch amiably shielding Potty from similar gossiping vultures. They hadn't left Scarhead’s side since.

Draco flushed as he remembered how close he’d been to screaming when he saw that Nott had skipped Transfig by claiming a headache. And so, Draco spent lunch hunting Nott. By the time he'd given up he could only stopped by the Great Hall to grab an apple and legged it to the hospital wing. 

Nott, as much of an arsehole that he could be, wouldn't want Ian dead. If Draco saw him sincerely apologize then he'd be appeased. 

No Nott, just Ian. His friend was pale as the sheets he laid in. He had bags under his eyes and his normally pink mouth was papery white and chapped. He looked a tad bit swollen still but closer to his usual morning moonface than the puffy beestung state he had been in. Draco held his hand and sat with him until lunch had ended. He thought about how he and Potter had talked without any insults or goading. 

He'd have to fix that. Potter and Longbottom were responsible for Ian's safety between the potion's classroom and the hospital wing. He can't have them thinking they could collect on any debts. 

After showing Madam Pomfrey his apple and lying about eating two sandwiches, he left for Care of Magical Creatures.

Now their next class was about to start and still, no sign of Nott. Good. He should be scared.

He spotted Potter with the Mud- with Granger and Weasel. He promised Ian. She was insufferable but her parents had been good to Ian when his guardian had been late to pick him up last year. Outwardly, he had to be a prick to her but in his own mind he could hold a modicum of respect for the muggleborn. She had slapped a fifth year who tried to accuse Harry of brutalising Ian. Accuse Potter.

"That's it. Come on, now. Come closer. Less talking, if you don't mind." The half giant called.

Draco took a bite of his apple as he sauntered toward the enclosure that would double as a classroom. Or maybe the oaf forgot what a classroom even looked like. Crabbe and Goyle flocked to him and flanked him quickly. Good if Nott showed his stupid face he wouldn't have to lift a finger.

"I got a real treat for you today. A great lesson. So follow me." The oaf said. 

He led them closer to a paddock where the oddest creatures preen their feathered wings and shooed away flies with their horse like tails. 

"Right, you lot, less chattering. Form a group over there." Hagrid said. Bloody hell had he always been that tall? "And open your books to page 49."

Longbottom struggled with the book and it promptly began to gnaw at his fingers. It launched itself at the moron's face and both book and owner fell to the ground. Bits of torn paper fell everywhere. How the fuck where they supposed to red the damned thing if it kept tearing itself to shreds?

"Exactly how do we do that?" Draco heard the words before he felt himself say them. He sounded pissed off even to his own ears.

The half giant peered over a cluster of gryffindors to look at him. "Just stroke the spine, of course."

"Goodness me." Longbottom said once he'd gotten his book under control.

"Don't be such a wimp, Longbottom." Draco said and stroked the spine of the Monster Book of Monsters. It purred in his hands. In an oddly reptilian way. That was kind of neat.

"I'm okay. Okay." Longbottom called out. 

Draco sneered at him. It was less potent than he'd hoped.

"I think they're funny." Granger said, her book tamely rested on a log.

Now his sneer was at its full potential.

"Oh, yeah. Terribly funny." He said and Potter's head whipped around to look at him. 

His stupid glasses where hanging off the end of his nose and his ugly bottle green eyes where narrowed. He was potion free and clean. If he hadn't seen him in the infirmary he'd assumed nothing had happened. Even his hair looked stupidly windswept. That inky bird's nest had flattened somewhat when they'd been sitting there waiting for Ian. Now it was back to its gravity defying horror.

"Witty. Gods, this place has gone to the dogs." He added. "Wait until Father hears Dumbledore's got this oaf teaching classes."

“Shut up, Malfoy.” Potter said, annoyed by not mad. Well, that wouldn't do.

Draco looked at the beautiful blue sky just over Potter's head. Gods, he was shorter than Ian! Ridiculous. Why was he so short? Nevermind. He jumped back, channelling the sheer panic he had smothered down as had Ian struggled to breathe. 

He raised a shaking hand to the sky and called. “Dementor! Dementor!”

He could hear Potter suck in a breath as he spun to look at where he'd pointed. There was nothing of course, just a harmless fluffy white cloud floating by.

He chuckled as Potter spun back to glare at him. Those too green eyes were burning with rage. He couldn't help the smirk that leapt to his face. He did, however, stumble back half a step when a very pissed off Potter got right in his face. 

Draco grinned. Potter's cheeks were red again. But this time he didn't have to worry about the git dying. The pure hate in his almond shaped eyes made it very clear Potter was very much alive. The quickened breath fanning his face, from fright or fury, made it abundantly clear that Potter could breathe. He could hate Potter.

His breath smelled sweat. Like the raspberry filled chocolates from lunch.

Draco had to lower his head to look Potter in the eye but it was worth the possible crick in the neck. Potter had to forget he'd helped his best friend. And if he was too busy being pissed off at him, he couldn't recall the possible life debt. He would risk getting punched. Ian was worth getting punched for.

“Just ignore him.” Granger said from behind Potter and whisked him away by the arm.

“You're supposed to stroke it.” Weasel said in mock outrage, keeping the book well away from his face.

“Yeah.” Potter answered. Draco could tell he wasn't paying attention. 

And Potter nearly tripped on a tree root. How fucking blind was he? Where those stupid glasses even working?

“First thing you wanna know about hippogriffs is that they're very proud creatures. Very easily offended. You do not want to insult a hippogriff.” The oaf said as he grabbed what looked like dead tubes of fur from a wrack. 

Oh. Gross. Weasels on a string.

“It may be the last thing you ever do.” The half giant said. 

Well, Draco was going to stick with theory today. Those things were absolutely massive.

“Now, who'd like to come and say hello?” the half giant said. 

Draco blanched and took a step back until he hit a tree. The rest of the class seemed to have the same idea. Except, of course, Potter. The specky git just turned his head so fast from the giant horse-bird to the half giant that his neck popped. Blind and easily distracted. Fantastic. So why did having him glaring at two inches apart feel palatable. Not not nice. Not good. Just, tolerable. And it was a little chilly out here under the shade. Potter apparently ran hot like a furnace.

“Well done, Harry. Well done.” The oaf said. “Come on now.”

Potter looked behind him and saw the class had figuratively abandoned him. Longbottom was peering at Scarhead from behind a fallen long. Draco gave a snort. 

“Now... you have to let him make the first move. It's only polite. So... step up. Give him a nice bow.” The half giant instructed. 

Oh he can't be serious. Draco's heart leapt to his mouth out of its own volition. This would be two near deaths on the first day of classes.

“Then you wait and see if he bows back. If he does, you can go and touch him.” The oaf said but Draco was only half listening. His eyes were glued to Potter. He looked so fucking small next to Hagrid and that monstrous chicken.

“Just make your bow. Nice and low.” The half giant said and Potter bowed.

The chicken monster made a horrible squawk and hopped on its front legs.

The whole class took another step back and Draco pressed himself against the bloody tree. 

“Back off, Harry. Back off.” The oaf warned as he tried to sooth his nightmare bird.

Pansy nudged his foot. He frowned at her but then she pointed at Granger and Weasel. 

They had jumped back. Holding hands. They jumped apart. The back of Weasel's neck turned red. Interesting.

When Draco looked back up the devil horse had calmed down. It sounded vaguely like a goose. Potter was shaking a little.

“Keep still. Keep still.” The Half giant said. 

The bird-horse turned its head this way and that as it eyed the Potter's head and neck. Probably to slice that bony little neck in two.

Then it lowered its head and bowed gracefully, its taloned front legs crossing like his mother had taught him when he'd been learning to dance.

“Well done, Harry. Well done.” The oaf said. He took one of the… oh gods, were those ferrets? The oaf took one of the dead things hanging from the rope around his shoulders and tossed it in the air for the feathered menace. Draco grimaced at the squelching and crunching as the nightmare chicken ate its treat.

“Right. I think you can go and pat him now.” Hargid said over the crunch of bones and squelch of raw bloody polecat meat. “Go on. Don't be shy.”

Potter, the moron, approached the chicken monster. Cautiously. At least. 

“Nice and slow, now.” The oaf said. “Nice and slow. Slow.”

The bird-horse squaked indignantly again. Why the fuck was this happening in his school. Last year was the murderous fuck you snake, now its a four legged mishmash of two already dangerous animals.

“Not so fast, Harry.” The oaf said while keeping a hand on the beast. “Slow down, Harry. That's it… Nice and slow.”

The eagle headed horse beast seemed to calm down. It looked at Potter like he was a damn squeaky toy.

“Now let him come to you.” Hagrid said and Potter stopped in his tracks. “Slowly, now, slowly, slowly…”

Half giant and half horse-half bird both walked toward Potter, who looked even tinier now. 

The bird monster nudged Potter's nest-like hair. 

“That's it…” the oaf said.

Potter, the colossal idiot, began to pet it's curved razor sharp beak.

“Yes!” The oaf said as the bird-horse mover to let Potter pet its feathered neck. “Well done! Well done, Harry, well done!”

“Does he get to fly?” The oaf asked the nightmare chicken of all things. It made a weird clicking noise in response.

“I think he may let you ride him now.” The oaf half whispered. Or didn't. It carried over to Draco anyway.

“What?” Potter asked. His squawk was almost as indignant as the bloody chicken's.

The shock on his face was almost enough to make Draco laugh. Except Potter was getting picked up by the half giant and placed on that nightmare chicken's back. 

Then Potter and the bloody chicken were soaring above their heads. Potter's elated hollering could be heard as they circled the lake. 

Draco was absolutely done. Something ugly twisted in his belly. Perfect Pretty Potter and his stupid bloody chicken.

And then he did a stupid thing and nearly gotten his arm torn off by said bloody chicken.

Now he was in the infirmary in a bed next to a still pale and weak but scowling Ian.

Stupid bloody half giant and his stupid bloody nightmare chicken. Stupid secky sodding Potter.

**Author's Note:**

> Next chapter on Monday: Five Points From Slytherin.
> 
> We get some Remus POV!


End file.
